Spoiled
by LilyBolt
Summary: It's Thanksgiving and Sam is realizing he has a lot to be grateful for, but one thing stands out above the rest. . . . A oneshot set between 12x06 "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox" and 12x07 "Rock Never Dies". No slash. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!


**WARNING: Spoilers for season 11 onward, including 12x01 "Keep Calm and Carry On" through 12x06 "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox".**

 **Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving everyone! This is just a little story idea that struck me, and I thought I'd share. It takes place between 12x06 "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox" and 12x07 "Rock Never Dies". Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

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Thanksgiving morning found Sam Winchester lying in his bed appreciating the coziness of his blankets.

It began with just a passing thought about how nice it was to have such warm bedding as the crisp November air chilled the Men of Letters Bunker. But as he considered the benefits of his blankets, the man gazed up at his ceiling fan and discovered yet another object he was grateful for.

Since moving into the Bunker Sam had adopted the habit of staring up at his fan whenever he was experiencing a particularly contemplative mood. This might have started because he'd never had a ceiling fan above his bed before. Of the many motels he and his family had stayed in during their lives, few boasted that specific amenity and he had rarely been granted the opportunity to stare at anything above him other than plain ceiling or the even less appealing option of a ceiling mirror.

Now he had a fan to stare at whenever his mind wandered, and he had discovered that he liked the change.

He started considering the other changes that his life had brought about more recently.

Not the least of which was the return of his mother. His _actual mother_. The flesh and blood Mary Winchester whom Sam had grown up missing in ways that didn't include memory, but imagination. He'd concocted stories in his head of how his mother would have responded to situations when he was but a little boy, and although years later he'd come to realize his older brother more often than not had responded in the exact same way, Sam had always carried in his heart a longing to know that _she_ would have too. If only to know her like Dean and their father had. Now he had the chance, and even after a few months of that being a fact Sam experienced a swell of thankfulness each time he remembered.

True, Dean and their mom had been off to a rough start. They'd been tiptoeing around one another's feelings and needs and stepping on toes half the time… Still, the dance was beautiful in spite of its messiness because how could it be anything less when it meant their mother was around to be involved in the first place?

The hunter's mind drifted to the beginning of this miracle.

The Darkness had been the start of so many things. Terror, danger, the brink of global disaster… But also the brief return of God himself, the resurrection of Mary, and the freeing of Dean from the Mark of Cain's hold on him. Sam could see a million ways things could have turned out a lot worse, and he recognized how that they hadn't was something to value. He never would have assumed he'd end up grateful that Amara had been released, not when it had nearly cost the world so much.

And it had nearly cost Dean.

So soon after the Mark was gone, Dean had been sentenced to death again. Sam had tried to stop it – to protect him – but when Sam's plan to sport the Mark himself and recapture Amara had failed, the duty of sacrifice had fallen on Dean Winchester's shoulders yet again. The older hunter was supposed to die in an explosion of souls to save everyone, yet instead found a way to fix it all and come out unscathed.

Dean was saved.

Suddenly Sam was struck with the realization that he hadn't explicitly told his brother what that meant to him.

Their reunion had been overshadowed by more pressing matters: the British Men of Letters holding them captive and subjecting them to torture, the fact that their mother was alive, and the fact that by the time they'd come down from all the adrenaline there was work to be done just like always.

Perhaps it was because this day was Thanksgiving or perhaps it was because he'd been staring at his thinking-fan too long, but Sam rather abruptly felt compelled to go find his brother and say what had been left unspoken over the past several months.

Climbing out of the cocoon of bedding he'd been enjoying, Sam touched his bare feet onto the Bunker's cool floor and padded off in the direction of Dean's room. A noise from the kitchen caused him to change course and head that way, listening to the muffled grumbles of his brother who was obviously battling with some kind of kitchen appliance.

Ducking into the doorway of the kitchen, the younger man spotted Dean standing beside their coffee machine pressing buttons and looking increasingly frustrated each time the thing didn't respond.

"Dean?" Sam questioned, causing the other man to toss him a glance over his shoulder.

"Our _Mr. Coffee_ hates me now," the elder man stated flatly.

Without a word Sam calmly bent down and reached behind the machine, locating its electrical cord and plugging it back into the wall. Then he pressed the necessary buttons and the unmistakable burbling sounds of brewing caffeine met their ears.

"Why was it unplugged?" Dean asked, trying to cover for the embarrassment of not having noticed the simple problem.

"Because I had to take it to the sink yesterday to clean it out. The thing was getting gross inside," Sam explained before teasing, "I thought you'd have figured that out sooner, but I guess even the man who killed Hitler is entitled to a slow day."

Ignoring that remark, Dean walked to the dish rack near their sink and pulled a clean mug out for himself. He didn't meet Sam's tracking gaze as he defended, "Hey, you showed up like thirty seconds after I tried turning it on! I'd have gotten there eventually."

"Yeah, maybe after you'd gone to throw out the whole thing and finally noticed it wasn't connected to the wall," Sam commented with a smirk.

Dean silently flipped him the bird while striding back over to the coffee machine which was now nearly done filling a fresh pot.

Sam laughed, and then it struck him.

As much as he'd come into the room with the intent of verbalizing thanks, there just weren't going to be words to articulate how and why he was so grateful that Dean hadn't died, and that he wasn't a trapped soul floating in The Empty, and the he was _here._ How could Sam possibly put into words a feeling that didn't have a name? The feeling of watching his big brother struggle to operate a _Mr. Coffee,_ being there to poke fun at him, getting to shrug off Dean's attempts at wrath...

The feeling of everything he was so glad he hadn't lost.

Right then Sam concluded that explaining it all verbally would be too difficult, and so alternatively he opted to just step forward and pull his brother into a hug.

Confused, Dean observed, "O-ok... You're being weird." even as he raised his coffee-mug-free arm to return the gesture.

"I'm being thankful you didn't blow up," Sam corrected.

"Are you ok Sammy?" asked Dean almost immediately, his tone revealing concern.

Finally pulling back and releasing his bewildered brother, Sam promised, "I'm good. Really. I was just thinking about Thanksgiving and, you know, all that."

Understanding lit Dean's eyes, but he seemed uncertain of how to offer a response.

"Never mind," Sam brushed over the matter.

Dean accepted the lifeline and cleared his throat before quickly inquiring, "So, about food for tonight. You leaning more towards KFC or one of those store-bought whole roasted chickens?"

Sam went along with his sibling and suggested, "Any chance you'd be down to make your homemade burgers? You could try a turkey burger recipe to be festive, plus I doubt the store will be out of ground turkey."

"First I've gotta rescue you from sadistic Brits, and now you want me to cook specialty burgers for you? You _could_ pull some weight for yourself you know. You're getting lazy," the shorter man chided, but his taller counterpart hadn't missed Dean's way of hinting his gratitude that _Sam_ was alive and well, too. Not to mention already Dean was grabbing a pen and notepad from the kitchen table and jotting down what appeared to be a list of ingredients he'd need to craft Thanksgiving burgers.

With everything he'd thought about before, all the good things in his life, Sam was confident he had a lot to be grateful for. But watching Dean bustle around the room preparing to cook him turkey burgers just because he'd said it might be fun…Well, he knew who was at the top of that list.

Smiling, Sam retorted, "I guess I'm just spoiled."

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 **Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please do leave feedback. It's always greatly appreciated. And Happy Thanksgiving again to all who are celebrating! :D**


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